The “campground” where I stayed last night was quite interesting. I think it used to be a campground but is now officially just a “rest stop.” People came in during the day and ate fast food at the picnic tables scattered throughout the grounds, then left. Most of the time I was the only one there. By bedtime, there were four of us who were apparently going to sleep there, but I was the only one in a vehicle made to live in. There was a pick-up truck with a young couple, who I’d assumed came to “make out.” (Do young people still do that?) They were still there when I woke up at 3:00 a.m. Another couple in a minivan came around dinner time, cooked a meal on a portable propane burner at the picnic table and then settled into the rear of their van for the night. At about 10:00 a man in a hatchback arrived as I was going to bed. He spent a lot of time pulling stuff out of the back of his vehicle—a bicycle, a folding table, some totes, and (I assume) was setting up the back for sleeping. As I went to bed, he still had the hatchback open and was sitting in the driver’s seat. When I woke up the next morning a Chevy van (much like my old “Soap Fairy” van) and a sub-compact car were parked on the other side of the loop next to each other. I saw someone get out of the van later and drive off in the car, so I guess they spent the night in the back of the van?
At 10:00 p.m. some motor kicked on. I thought perhaps someone had started up a generator, but I opened my door to see where the sound was coming from and realized it was some kind of motor in the drainage system. There was a concrete pad close to my van, with a manhole cover on it. The sound was coming from below that. Maybe it was pumping something into or out of the stream? I thought I might have to move, but it didn’t take long for the noise to become background sound, dulling the sounds of the traffic that passed by occasionally. I had to pull a couple of curtains to block out the few streetlights that lined the ring of the campground, and they kept it dark enough inside that I slept in until almost 7:00 a.m.
I got the results of my bloodwork last week and I decided that it was time to clean up my act, start eating healthier food, and doing at least some minimal resistance exercises again. My bloodwork was much better than I expected. My “good cholesterol” was 3 points below normal, my “bad cholesterol” was 2 points above normal. My overall cholesterol was fine. My triglycerides are up again, but not nearly as high as they had been several years ago (into the danger level). My blood glucose is high. I developed some bad eating habits during Covid and gave myself permission to eat “comfort food” as often as I wanted. Those bad habits continued on the road, using the excuses that I have a small refrigerator, I often don’t have access to a real grocery store (or sometimes ANY store) for weeks on end, and I’m “camping.” Then food became so expensive, and I realized I could sustain life on items I found at Dollar General. And most of those artificial food-imitating products have a shelf life of several years, so they were not only cheap, they also would never go bad. So I’ve vowed that S’more pop tarts will no longer take the place of a real breakfast, and that I can buy some fresh fruits and veggies when I pass by, or through a city, or stop at roadside stands (there were not many roadside stands through June and July because in June there was still snow on the ground in many of the places I’ve been). Cabbage, Brussel sprouts and cauliflower last quite a while without refrigeration. I gave up buying salad ingredients, because I’d make one salad, and by the next time I got all the ingredients out again, they were wilted, rotted or molding. So I’ve started buying “salad kits” when I go to a grocery store. They are very expensive for what you get, but they have cabbages, carrots, lettuces, spinach, kale—all sorts of greens in one package. I don’t have to buy a lot of individual ingredients and throw ¾ of them away in a couple days. I just dump out the “salad” and top it off with any fresh veggies I have that won’t last much longer, add some apple pieces, or raisins and an Asian sesame dressing I found, and I’ve got a pretty healthy lunch. Also, at this campground I’m at, there are lots of Lamb’s Quarters growing in the grass. I walked around and pinched the tops off of all I could find, came in, cleaned them well, and threw them in a frying pan for a minute to sort of steam/sizzle them. A sprinkle of salt and pepper and it is one of my favorite delicacies.
I started exercising too. I decided that when I walk Cosmo, I can do some sit-ups, and leg raises, either on the grass or on a picnic bench. Where I stayed last night had picnic tables with a pergola shading them. The supports for the cover over the tables were a big “V” that came out of the ground and spread out to touch the corners of the roof. I grabbed the supports, and moved my feet close to the base, thus hanging from the support at an angle to the ground. I did some pull ups, then put my hands on the bench and moved my feet away from the bench and did incline pushups. I’ve given up on ever having 6-pack abs, but have decided I at least need to tighten up a bit.
I hung out over the weekend at the “used-to-be” campground. In spite of the fact that the electrical, fresh water and toilets were locked up and turned off, the place was relatively attractive, with a big plot of grass in the center and around the edges.
Since I bring my own utilities with me, I didn’t care that they had cut off theirs. And once again, I enjoyed people watching. No other vans came. One night there was a motorcycle guy, who towed a box behind his Harley. It opened up and unfolded into a space quite a bit bigger than my van. I didn’t get invited in, but from the outside I could see through the screen that there was a double bed mattress. I am fairly sure that the other half held some sort of kitchen and sitting arrangement. It looked pretty cool. Several cars pulled in late at night and parked until morning. I don’t know what their set up may have been. I’m pretty interested in people who live with far less than I have. When I downsized, I wondered if I’d be able to live with such meager accommodations. But after nearly two years of actually living in my van (I bought it in September of 2020, and lived in it in my parking lot for the first 8 months), I’ve come to realize that I have luxury accommodations compared to many who live on the road. When I see people who are living (maybe for the weekend, maybe while on vacation, maybe until the economy treats them better?) in a car, and seem pretty happy, I am reminded of how fortunate I am to have so much.
I moved Monday night back to the Traveler’s Oasis. It felt like home, and I parked once again in the back corner of the dirt lot, away from bright lights. It was a bit more crowded that night with many more semis coming in around dark. It was just 3 minutes from the RV place where I was to go on Tuesday morning, so it was quite convenient. I had gone to Walmart to buy a cooler so I could put my cold food in it while the new fridge was being installed. I went into the trucker’s store at the “oasis” to get some ice and had to wander around. It was sort of like a trucker’s Walmart. They seemed to have everything from food, to clothing, to electronic gadgets to things that I assume only a trucker would know about or want. The employees there were quite outgoing and very friendly. They asked if I needed help and we chatted some. I suspect truckers on the road for long spells are like me—when they get another human ear, they probably overdo it a bit, not sure when the next chance to engage with another person will occur. It was kind of a fun place.
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I got up early on Tuesday morning and emptied the fridge out into the cooler. I went into the store at the front end of the parking lot and paid for another bag of ice to dump over top of all my food, and then headed to the RV dealership. I arrived 15 minutes before they opened. Soon employees started arriving and I went in. They told me to move my van around to the side, and Morgan came out, introduced himself and began by taking measurements to be sure the new fridge would fit in the hole where the old fridge was coming out of. All looked good. The old one came out easily, but the new one stopped about an inch short of going in smoothly. Morgan asked if he could “do some banging.” I told him he could do whatever it took to get the new fridge in and working properly. He finessed the bottom of the opening with a sledgehammer and that seemed to bend the metal pan out enough for the new fridge to slide in smoothly. He wasn’t totally happy with the seal at the lip in the front where it butted up against my cabinets, so he went to a hardware store and got some peel and stick insulation strips. That sealed it perfectly. I said to him, ”Well, it looks quite pretty. Now can you make it work?” He smiled and said it would only take a few minutes, and indeed he was correct. Within minutes it was turned on and the pilot was lit. I knew because instead of trying to look through a tiny piece of dark glass to see if I could detect a flame, there is a meter and the red dial goes to green when the pilot is on. Easy peasy. He told me if I turned it to electric mode, it would cool down more quickly. I did and within half an hour the freezer went from 67 to 29. I’m a happy camper (literally) even though the total bill came to just under $2500. Ouch.
I drove back to the “used-to-be” campground about 45 minutes closer to my destination of Boise. Upon entering I paid closer attention and noticed that the sign across the street definitely said “Rest Area” with an arrow pointing to the entrance of the park. Lowered expectations. As a paid campground it would suck. As a FREE campground, it would be only mediocre. But as a REST AREA, this was truly upscale, with grass, trees, a small stream, grills, and covered picnic tables at each site. Cosmo felt truly at home there and I guess I did too.
The next morning, we moved on toward Boise, driving a little over two hours. There was no BLM land or free camping off I-84 between where we were and Boise, but iOverlander did suggest a very nice rest stop off the interstate. We made it there and as rest areas go, I wasn’t disappointed. I pulled into the side that said “RV’s, Busses and Trucks” and there were only about 3 trucks, one trailer and a couple pick-up trucks pulling horse trailers behind. I pulled into one of the long spaces toward the end. I am always conscious that I can park in almost any space, but truckers are limited, so I try not to take up their spots. They are working; I am “on vacation” (permanently). I got settled in and there was just a thin strip of grass separating me from the “cars” side of the rest stop. There were tons of spaces on that side, and I decided that I really should have pulled into one of those parking spaces. I got in the van and drove back the way I came in. There was a “Do Not Enter” sign advising me not to exit that way. I drove to the other end where there was an exit from the lot onto an on-ramp back onto the interstate. The only way I could get to the car side would have been to back up on the ramp to the interstate (possible, but not very Kosher) or get on I-84 west, take the next exit, then turn around and head east on the 84 to the next exit, get off there, and turn around again and re-enter the rest area and take the “cars only” side. It seemed way too much trouble. But by 10 p.m., the truck and RV side was getting crowded, and semis were driving around looking for a safe spot to stop. I felt a little guilty taking up a spot that was 50’ long when I’m under 20’. Live and learn.
It was quite noisy all night long. I had huge tractor trailers parked on either side of me, both running generators. It was like having neighbors mowing their lawn all night long, except the lawn mowers never moved from under my windows. Eventually, my brain registered the din as “white noise” and I fell into a deep sleep until one of the trucks started up and got ready to leave at 3:00 a.m. I think I might have slept through that too, but when the truck moved, Cosmo went into guard dog mode and started barking. I got him settled and fell back asleep until another semi took its place and we repeated the whole procedure.
I slept in until 7:00 a.m. Since I had big trucks on either side of me, the sun was blocked from shining through my windows. I made coffee, listened to a podcast and checked my plans for the day. I headed to Boise, stopped at a Planet Fitness for a shower and proceeded into Oregon. When my GPS said “Welcome to Oregon” I did a little happy dance in my driver’s seat. But I’m not sure why. I guess because of my preconceived notions of state lines and general stereotypes. My first stop was Tractor Supply for propane. They have never failed me. They are fast, cheap prices for propane and always friendly service. This one failed. The kid who came out to pump my propane said “Oh. I can’t pump directly into RV’s. I can only fill portable tanks. I heard of one employee who filled an RV, but we weren’t trained, and we are told not to do it.” I thanked him and left. I think he was hoping I’d push the issue so he too could have bragging rights with the other employee who is rumored to have “done it,” but I wasn’t willing to let him practice on my van. Next stop was a small grocery store. I needed half and half for my coffee. They did not have any, but they had at least 6 vegan alternatives. Yup. I was in Oregon. I settled on the Macadamia creamer with cinnamon, for no other reason than the container was square and squat and would fit efficiently in my new fridge. (I made coffee that afternoon, and I have to say, it was not bad.)
I continued to drive in the blazing heat (over 100 degrees) and got to where my GPS told me to turn off. I turned onto a paved road, but clearly not recently paved and certainly not used. There was a dotted yellow line indicating the center of the road, but the entire width was just wide enough for my van to pass comfortably. There were tall succulents on either side of the road. They looked quite dead with dead flowers on the tips. There were lots of weeds growing through the asphalt and some had grown to such a height and thickness that I had to drive around them. I came to a gate, as my camping app said I would. They said to just open it up, go through and close it behind me, so the cows wouldn’t get out. I did. A few yards later I came to another one. My GPS said I had to drive a mile in, and the farther I drove, the narrower the road got and the thicker the jungle was, growing through the asphalt road. When My GPS said “You have arrived” I was indeed at an impasse. The trees growing through the road were thick and heavy and the road was impassible at that point. I decided to turn around and at least face downhill. It took me about 8 “Y turns” to inch my van back and forth until I got it facing downhill. (There were steep drop-offs on either side of the road, making turning around very difficult and quite dangerous.) When I was facing downhill, I considered just staying there for the night. The view from high up was nice and I was tired of driving, but my front end was 20 inches lower than my back end. I couldn’t imagine trying to spend a night that far out of level, so I drove down the hill to see what was close by.
I had no internet or cell signal, so I couldn’t check my online maps. I remembered passing a campground a few miles back, so I headed the way I came. Sure enough about 5 miles down the road I saw a sign indicating Bully Creek Reservoir and Bully Creek Campground. By this time I was drenched in sweat and Cosmo was panting so hard I thought he might pass out. I pulled in and it was “self-serve” (as so many of the campgrounds have been…too cheap to hire someone to take money and deal with campers, so they just leave envelopes out on a table and ask you to shove money into a mail slot. It was $15 and by that point it felt like a bargain to be by the water in this heat. I picked a spot, and it was relatively level. My new fridge is not nearly so picky about being level to run on propane AND included with the campsite fee was electricity, so I was going to run the fridge from AC power anyway. As soon as we parked, I took Cosmo to my outside shower and hosed him down. He immediately crawled into the shade under the picnic table. I read the “handout” that had been lying on the table listing park rules, check in and check out times, etc. There were 5 pages included from the State Water Department saying the water had a high level of arsenic. At .01 you should not drink it but could use it for bathing. At .1, you should not use it for irrigation or washing fruits and vegetables and at .5 it was not safe to use for any domestic applications. The level in April was .388. So basically, help yourself to a shower in our bath house and best wishes for a speedy recovery. It didn’t indicate if it was only the water coming through the pipes or if the reservoir was also contaminated. The reservoir was beautiful but not really accessible from our campground. There was a steep cliff and a long walk to get there through thick brush. And even if we got there, would we be swimming in a toxic soup? There was no one around to ask. There were, however, two people swimming. We could see them from our campsite, but they never got close enough for us to ask if it was safe or were they just risk takers. Even if it was safe to swim in, I knew the first thing Cosmo would do is drink as if he’d not had water for days. I just wasn’t willing to take such a risk, so we looked at the water from afar.
Since we were plugged in, I turned the air conditioning on full blast. I put covers over the windshield and my “opera windows” in the ceiling. I left the side windows cracked for circulation. After an hour I got the inside temperature down to 92 degrees. We sat outside under the dappled shade of a small, leafless tree. (All the trees in the campground were dead or dying from the arsenic level) There was some air movement, but I’d have to say it fell quite short of qualifying as a breeze. I still had no cell or internet connection, so it was not a pleasant afternoon.
In the evening, as the sun went down, the air movement picked up and the blistering heat subsided a little. The temperature inside the van held steady in the mid-90’s and I was tempted to open all the doors so it could cool down. But each time I exited the van, or came back inside, at least 40 flies took the opportunity to enter the van. I had swatted like a madman all afternoon, barely putting a dent in the fly population. I was so tired of having flies crawling on my bare legs and arms and face. I felt like an Ethiopian orphan. So Cosmo and I went for a walk. Despite the reservoir being poisoned, it was beautiful at sunset. The sky was blue and full of billowy white cumulonimbus clouds. About halfway around the loop, I met an older (yes, even older than I am) couple on an evening walk. They each had walking sticks, not the kind you buy at a swap meet, but the kind they obviously found on the ground on one of their many previous camping trips. I asked if only the well water used in the bathrooms was toxic or was the reservoir itself also toxic. They said there were extremely high levels of arsenic in the lake. They said some people, mostly teenagers, come out for the day and swim or float in it, but they advised against is. They said there had also been an outbreak of blue-green algae which would cause severe illness to Cosmo should he get in the water. After we finished the unpleasantries of discussing the poisoned water, we exchanged information about where we’d been and where we are going. They are from Oregon, just out for a quick camping trip. They said they used to come here when they were younger and the water wouldn’t kill you. It was yet another nice “meaningful relationship” on the road.
I am once again in the Pacific Time Zone. Artificial time becomes more and more absurd to me, as I cross back and forth between clock settings. A few miles ago, I would have been in bed by now, but where I am, it is too early to retire, so stayed up and watched a movie that I had on DVD. I’m sure I’d seen it a couple years ago, but fortunately, my memory is not so good when it comes to movies, so even though I had some déjà vu moments, I couldn’t remember what happened and the ending was still a surprise to me. By then, I could legally go to bed in this time zone, and I laid down on top of my covers, with the full moon shining through the front opera windows (I’d removed the coverings at sunset, because I love to see the sky through those windows at night). It was still quite hot in the van, and for whatever reason, Cosmo felt a need to snuggle, so he laid with his back against me and we eventually both fell asleep.
Lessons from the Road: I’ve been thinking this week about tribes and uniforms. My last night at the “used-to-be-a-campground” a big SUV pulled in after dark. It was an old SUV, maybe a 4Runner or a Chevy Blazer? It was painted in camouflage and had a roof rack with many Gerry cans (is that the right word? Correct spelling?). Some were red plastic, others metal and painted drab olive green. There was a solar panel up there and some sort of industrial-looking truck boxes. The owner slept in the back. When he came out, he waved, and I noticed he had on an Australian cowboy hat…the kind that was turned up on one side. It too was camouflage, to match his camouflage wagon. The man on the Harley had a Harley Davidson T-shirt and matching cap. I had on my favorite hat, which I think would be considered a Pork Pie hat. We each had “costumes” to indicate which tribe we belonged to—Road Warrior, Biker, Hippie. Without a word, we all could tell from across the grassy field who belonged to what tribe. And yet, there was a larger umbrella—Nomad—which covered all of us, uniting us in a single purpose, no matter what our sub-tribe happened to be. We always waved or nodded or flashed the peace sign when we saw one another come out of our rigs.
Another thing I’ve noticed is who brushes their teeth where. Car campers always come out first thing in the morning, with a solo cup of water in one hand and a toothbrush in the other. They pace a little, sometimes stretch, while brushing their teeth. They take a swig of water and spit it out on the ground. Pull-behind campers, 5th wheelers, and Class C and Class A people always brush their teeth inside at a sink. Van people are the dividing line and they can go either way. Some have sinks, some don’t. Some probably have sinks and still go outside to brush their teeth in order not to spit toothpaste into a sink full of last night’s dishes. Where you brush your teeth is an indication of which group you identify with. I’ve started brushing my teeth outside. ?
Something has changed dramatically with me over the past year on the road. A year ago, I wouldn’t have dreamed of staying overnight at a rest stop. Part of that is due to the fact that on the east side of the Mississippi, police seem to make it their mission to be sure nobody is “camping” in a rest stop. Most have signs that say “No Camping, No Overnight Parking.” But in the “dirt states” of Utah, Wyoming, the Dakotas and Idaho, rest stops are for resting. If you are too tired to drive, then STOP DRIVING and pull in and go to sleep. I’ve been told that some rest stops in these states have a 12-hour limit, but there are no signs and it appears that nobody comes through to monitor your stay. In the past when I’ve stayed at a Walmart or Cracker Barrel I would try to ignore the asphalt, and focus on an adjacent field, or the beautiful sunset or sunrise. If I let the parking lot into my awareness, I could easily get anxiety and think “What am I doing? How did I think it was a good idea to sell everything I own and live in a van? Look where you ended up!” Self-doubt would take over and I’d wonder how I would continue, where I’d end up in the long run and wonder why I ever thought this was a good plan. But last night, as I took Cosmo across the parking lot of a rest area in the middle of Idaho, I looked at the traffic in both directions along I-84. I looked past it to the storm clouds brewing in the west and the beauty they created in conjunction with the setting sun. I stood on the patch of grass designated as “Pets allowed on leash in this area” and looked back to the parking lot, now filled with 18-wheelers. I felt a sense of security wash over me, a sense of belonging. This was home. Whatever fears or anxieties I’d had a year ago had vanished. It had vanished a while ago, but I was just now becoming aware of it. “I LIVE HERE” now truly applies whether I’m on BLM land in a gorgeous canyon or out in the desert, or next to a river in a National Forest, or in an asphalt parking lot, surrounded by truck drivers. The boundaries are disappearing in my mind. It’s all planet earth at this moment in time and Cosmo and I are an integral part of it. We belong. We are safe. And most of all, we are happy.